


Experiment 1015814.23120191514: Little Progress, Stalled Indefinitely

by stepstostars



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepstostars/pseuds/stepstostars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an ordinary person, it'd be an ordinary sort of day. For Sherlock, it's a lesson in restraint and paranoia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiment 1015814.23120191514: Little Progress, Stalled Indefinitely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alltoseek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/407145) by [alltoseek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek). 



> My Sherlock voice is a little rusty, but I think I found the right balance of dickish bluster and crippling insecurity.

 April 5, 2010

## Experiment 1015814.23120191514: Little Progress, Stalled Indefinitely

Today marks day sixty-six in my  ~~acquaintance~~ friendship? (require more data to properly classify relationship) with  ~~Dr Watson~~  John and I find myself in something of a bind.  
  
_Background:_  Currently in the midst a long-term social experiment on assessing the niceties and courtesies required in extended human interaction during cohabitation with a friendly individual.  
  
Mycroft tells me I need to stop running experiments on people I label “friends” if I want to keep their company when they inevitably find out I’m running said experiments on them. I asked how well that was working for him (in an appropriately snide and sarcastic tone, of course) and he rolled his eyes and said, I quote verbatim: “You seriously think I’m interested in indulging in that useless hobby?”  
  
Antisocial coward; he’ll regret his choices when he dies fat, alone, and forgotten—who will have no one else to worry about other than his darling brother.  
  
Shit.  
  
_Note to self:_  introduce stupid prick of a brother to appropriate acquaintances that will divert attention away from me.  
  
I digress, the first few weeks of our acquaintance were spent discovering the extreme boundaries of his tolerance (surprisingly vast—unsure whether due to genuine interest in my person or out of desperation to avoid being a. homeless or b. shackled to his overbearing alcoholic sister) as well as entrapping his curiosity with cases and feeding his adrenaline addiction. Soon, if he hasn’t already, he’ll connect my presence with the anticipation and giddy euphoria of a good high and I will have him firmly in hand.  
  
Therefore, you must understand why it is with some trepidation that I have found myself without a case to occupy us with these past several days. It’s the reason I even have the time to update my personal logs now. I fear for my own growing boredom as well as John’s wavering interest in my work. If I cannot supply his drug, the logical answer would be to leave and find someone more appropriate for the task—something I refuse to allow. As strange as it may sound, I find John’s constancy…quite diverting. Fascinating, even.  
  
  
**Update:**  After reviewing for a few minutes, I have the greatest unease I may have allowed my own feelings and emotions about our—partnership (yes, this is an accurate enough term) to run further than I would like. I’ve become so used to having him around that his absence would be devastating.  
  
**Update:**  Took his phone while I paced around the flat. He complained, but from his tone I knew he didn’t mean it. He’s only pretending to read his medical journals at this point.  
  
Tried texting and calling my own phone. Both went through, which means either Mycroft has set up a cell barrier around the flat so no one outside can reach me or no one has contacted me. Occam’s razor suggests the latter, but I wouldn’t put it past my brother to set up the former out of some misplaced brotherly  ~~love~~ guilt. Especially if it’ll keep me “out of trouble,” as he so often complains about.  
  
Compulsive worrywart, I’m glad I didn’t end up with those genes.  
  
**Update:**  Texted both Lestrade and Mycroft seeking sustenance. No reply from Lestrade (concerning, did he fall into a pit and die? Will need to update eulogy list in case of that contingency) and Mycroft sent back a sad face emoji.  
  
I knew I never should’ve upgraded to an iPhone.  
  
Truly, what use is a brother if he can’t provide for his sibling’s needs? At least I know he hasn’t actually blacked out my phone or the flat from outside communication. However, his grasp of sarcasm over text is disturbing—I always thought him a bit of a dinosaur when it comes to technology.  
  
**Update:**  Participated in “banter” with John. Why he proceeds to mention my failures even when he knows I hate unnecessary commentary is becoming an increasingly frustrating mystery. I allow him to trash my methods on his blog, isn’t that enough?  
  
I couldn’t have known about the identical twin in the Johnson case before I took it, and the Yard hadn’t solved it even after twenty years! You’d think people would be more amazed at how well I handled the situation. However, at least John seems amused by the conversation and that lends some use to ensuring our continued partnership.

Ordinary people, how insufferable yet puzzling.  
  
**Update:**  John wants to go out. To—buy groceries??  
  
Our fridge and cupboard (including his all-important tea stocks) are adequately full and he rarely goes shopping this early in the week. Insignificant changes in long-engrained habits are often a harbinger of dangerous events, and so, against my better judgment, I make the quick decision to join him.  
  
If anything, it may provide more data on better understanding the intricacies of the average mind. I very rarely get the chance to observe the mundane.  
  
Or, if we’re fortunate enough, something exciting will occur. At this point, I’d take after chasing petty thieves or scamming beggars over the unrelenting stillness of our flat.  
  
**Update:**  It’s appalling how incompetent John is at picking produce and haggling. Just because an apple  _looks_  red doesn’t mean it’ll remain so when he decides he finally wants to eat it four days later. But, of course, he ignores my advice and buys the prettiest and shiniest trinkets on display.  
  
How generically amateur, it’s a wonder why he even bothers to visit markets if he refuses to act on their advantages.  
  
Luckily, I find a honey stall with a shopkeeper who’s quite well-versed in the noble profession of beekeeping and I entertain myself that way. If John refuses to listen to reason and wants to waste his money, so be it.  
  
**Update:**  John took my phone away, arguing that my “constant keyboard tapping was irritating” and “you need to focus on the outside world sometimes!” and forced me to pickpocket one from a stranger. He was acting like a prick, anyway, pushing and shoving through the crowds. Overpowered executive in his forties used to having his way, cheating on his wife who’s reciprocally cheating on him, flashy accessories—gaudy cuff links and a clashing tiepin—and altogether a prime target for the picking.  
  
He’ll find his phone in the Yard if he’s lucky enough that I remember. His wallet is of fine enough leather that I’m partial to keeping it. It’ll make a tolerable present for John’s upcoming birthday.  
  
On a more personal note, I believe John’s finally given up trying to keep me from a phone, but he still turns his head to frown at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.  
  
**Update:**  We’ve reached the end of shopping and have taken to “wandering the streets” as John puts it. This far away from the market, there aren’t even any people to observe never mind interactions to analyse.  
  
It’s all incredibly dull, and when I mention this to John he shrugs and directs us back to the bus stop. I’m unsure if this whole trip has been more useless and boring than wasting hours back in our flat, though I have picked up a few nice presents.  
  
**Update:**  Currently enveloped by a two-metre long dragon plush while John hugs his inferior and, honestly, disgusting heart pillow to his chest. It’s vomit-inducing and I’ll be glad when he shoves it off on his girlfriend, though I’m unsure if his try at humour will be as readily accepted as he thinks.  
  
John runs off to the kitchen while I lounge back on the couch, dragging my computer to my chest. Still no messages on the site; how dull. My purchase from the market lies innocuously on the table and I decide to light it. If anything, the smell will be comforting.  
  
“Sentiment,” my brother would scoff. But, then again, I don’t care what my wanker of a brother thinks. As much as he would like a hole in my chest to match his own, I haven’t stabbed out my heart with an ice pick quite yet.  
  
**Update:**  John’s back from kitchen, cradling his salad like a newborn babe while he practically moans in pleasure. I’ll never truly understand the enjoyment of food—what is electricity to a computer or fuel to a car? I’ll need to remind him to eat his apples lest he let them rot like last time.  
  
“A day completely out of the ordinary,” John says and I nearly scoff. But he looks content enough, and if he enjoys these—insufferably boring days with no adrenaline shot in sight, maybe I shouldn’t worry about diverting his attention with theatrics as much. I may have, in fact, found myself not just a friendly individual but a partner. A friend.  
  
So I don’t scoff or roll my eyes but instead settle myself more comfortably on the couch and start composing contingency eulogies in the event of Lestrade’s untimely demise.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why this is formatted in weird little, "update: x" bits, it's because that's how the official Sherlock blog updates entries. Seriously, it's horrendous.
> 
> And for the numbering in the title; it's John Watson in alphabet code (J = 10, O = 15, etc.)


End file.
